Cabin in the Woods
by Cliapatra32
Summary: (AU)There's not really a way to describe what happened but from many point of views put together. Me? I just...I was just minding everyone's business like I always do! I swear! I didn't expect the kidnappings or the superstars or the cameras or the fear or...him. Human!Bill.
1. Chapter 1

By Joe! It's been years!

But enough with my dramatics. I have finally gotten back into writing after all these years of busy high school work and projects. And let me tell you, it feels _wonderful_ to be back. I haven't completely gone away. As you can see, I've gotten into other fandoms and continued to read other fan works. Now I'm trying to finish my stories and start new ones while simultaneously writing an original. Anyway, this is new and I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Bill bobbed his head up and down as he walked through the Gravity Mall. He had a small smirk on his face despite the responding grimaces and sneers.

 _"Like a Shooting Star!"_ The blonde sung along with the melodious voice blasting in his eardrums. He could feel the raw happiness and energy in every note she sung; Shooting Star spread this everywhere her voice could reach. So no one could blame him for the kick in his step. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and Bill traced is back to a working Thompson moving his mouth.

"Huh?" raised an eyebrow at the worker while taking out the earbuds. Thompson grunted in irritation.

"Bill, this is the third time that you're late!" Thompson walked slightly behind the blonde as Bill went in the employee's section. He placed his phone and earbuds in his pockets before changing into the movie theater's vest. "I can't keep making excuses for you. The supervisor has already threatened to dock my pay!"

"Relax, Play Dough, that pint-sized munchkin won't touch your precious paycheck." Bill said as he checked into his shift and stood behind the snacks counter. He grabbed a small popcorn bowl and filled it.

"This is serious!" Thompson took the half-filled cup from Bill's hand and threw it back into the machine. "Eating the food; showing up late; getting me grilled by the boss." The angry brunette locked his eyes with Bill, brown eyes angrily pinning blue ones. "This is your final warning, Bill: if you can't clean up your act, I will have no choice but to fire you."

Bill's shift went by in a slight haze. He walked out of the employee area much later that night and into the bathroom across the narrow hall from. He grasped the sink as he looked at his reflection. Brightened blonde locks lay on top a pair of blue eyes on an angular, pale skin. It all rested on a lithe frame. His looks have gained him plenty of attention, but so has his personality.

He began leaving the theater when he stopped at the front board right next to the ticket counter. He looked at the picture of a purple banged girl with a purple shirt next to a redhead.

 **MISSING**

 **Name: Tambry Johnerson**

 **Description: 5'5"; dark purple hair w/ light purple highlight. Brown eyes and cylindrical ear piercing in the top corner of her left ear. Last seen July 18th, 2018.**

A hand on his brought the blonde from his thoughts. Bill looked to the side to see Wendy looking at the picture with a frown and crunched brows. He looks down to see her fingers mindlessly grazing his own, but he understands. He grasps her hand in his and squeezes. Wendy gasps sharply with widened eyes and looks at Bill. She looked at him and he gave her a smile. Something must have looked wrong because she squinted her eyes in suspicion.

"Wouldn't want the same to happen to you, would we?" He asked with a little chuckle at the end, looking the redhead in the eyes. She looked outside the doors behind Bill, then focused back on him.

"No." She spat, roughly taking her hand back. The glare in her eyes intensifying with visible anger and something else he couldn't describe as anything other than hesitation. "I guess not." Wendy backed away from Bill, eyes never leaving his, until she passed the doors and left Bill in an empty room.

'Yeesh, what was that for?' Bill asked himself as he left the theater and walked home.' She looked at me like I was about to do something to her!' The path grew more and more isolated in the woods, a trail nearly invisible to the untrained eye, when it opened up to some old apartments. Looking up, he could see a woman smoking on the ledge of the second story balcony, shaking her head at the illuminated screen door. She turned her head and smiled at the young man.

"Puddin!'" she squealed, knowing the high pitch made him cringe, and stood on top of the edge with her arms and legs spread.

"Call me that again, and I will rearrange all of the orifices in your face." he laughed, his smile matching hers. She cackled and jumped, landing in a crouch and rolling to his feet. To anyone else, a curvaceous woman in scanty fabrics barely passable for clothing, clinging to your upper thigh would make anyone weak in the knees, but Bill was just amused.

"Did you have a bad day, daddy?" She asked in a high-pitched voice, smiling wider at the disgusted sneer that came upon his face. "I'm sure I can make it better."

"Save that for your customers, Py." The blonde stated. The two shared a playful glare and walked to the side of the front of the apartment complex, ignoring judgmental glares and harsh murmured comments on their way inside.

In the small apartment lived 'The Henchmaniacs' as Bill deems them. It was a cramped, little one-bedroom (because Pyronica easily won a room to herself), two-bathroom place that all six social outcasts shared. They considered each other friends, despite not seeing each other most of the time due to their jobs. The two who come home the least are Keyhole, a repair man who doubles as a hacker, and Amorphous Shape, a very flexible flight attendant. Bill only knew they were home by the loud snoring and shed clothes in the hamper. Pyronica was a burlesque dancer who worked two towns over and only worked at nights, so he usually caught her when one of them was on their way out the door. Teeth was the most socially acceptable of them all with his obsession with collecting (you guessed it) teeth.

Teeth and Paci-Fire, a very small and bulky caretaker with anger issues towards most people (but ironically, not children), were currently sitting on the carpeted floor playing 'Spin the Person' with a beer bottle decorated to look like a human. It didn't make much sense, but they weren't known for having any.

They cheered as Bill walked past them and into the kitchen, taking out an old food box from the fridge and checking it to make sure that it was still good. After heating the meal, he sat down to chat with the two odd men while the pink-haired female went to her room.

"That woman will be the death of me, I swear." Teeth claimed, still swooning at the doorway.

"She's not the only one." Paci sneered. The jovial conversation became tense. After a moment of awkward silence, the caretaker continued. "I just-"

"Please not today, P."

The babysitter opened his mouth to speak up, but closed it at his friend's pleading look. The three shared weird, albeit a bit tense conversation while the game started anew.

Later that night, laying in the bathtub as his designated bed with Shooting Star's new album softy playing through ear buds, Bill's thoughts had dug up all that was buried in the back of his conscious. Wendy's expression was one of many he had seen over the years. It wasn't always as obvious as spiteful words and hardened eyes. Sometimes the fear could be seen in the recesses of bright eyes and the dimples of smiling faces; other times the hatred was shown through shouted words and twisted sneers. All because of superstition.

The music dulled with his consciousness.

All because they thought he was one of _them._


	2. Chapter 2

Thick hands slammed down on a dented wooden desk, creaking at the familiar show of frustration.

"Damn it old man! Did you see the perp or not?!" the man shouted at the quivering elderly sitting in his cushioned chair.

"A-All I's remember i-is red! Red and she was gone! KA-BLOOEY!" Old Man McGucket stammered. The man behind the desk breathed heavily, calming himself down.

"Thank you for your statement Mr. McGucket. You may leave." The detective kept his eyes closed after hearing the door shut. Taking another deep breath in, he let out a rather loud sigh and rubbed his hands over his face.

A knock sounded and the man sat alert. "Come in." A bald African American sheriff with a grey mustache stood in the doorway.

"Detective Gleeful, Durland brought doughnuts for everyone!" Sheriff Blubs stated with a smile. "He even got the square ones you like so much! Would you like one?"

"That would be lovely, Blubs, thank you." Gideon replied with a tight smile. Blubs closed the door with a nod and the detective sagged in his chair. He looked down at the opened file on his desk.

 **MISSING:** **Tambry Johnerson**

He sighed. It had been twelve days since she mysteriously disappeared. The only evidence they've collected was camera footage from Heated Theme. She simply went into a dressing room and never came out. He would almost call it magic had it not been for his (ahem) _history_ with it, both real and for show. Then there was McGucket, but that old coot hasn't been in this plane of existence for as long as anyone can remember. Still...

"Red."

Gideon sighed again and closed the file. Being frustrated will not help the case nor himself in the long run. So, facing his computer, the silver-headed man clicked on the website.

"That was Shooting Star's latest concert coverage with Ashley in L.A!" a female voice squealed.

Gideon smiled. He plugged in his headphones and saw the doughnut on his desk. Eyebrows raised, he hadn't even heard Blubs come in. Picking it up, he chewed happily while listening to the female announcer update him on Shooting Star.

Hey, just because they had a bad break-up in high school, didn't mean he had to hate her. Far from it, actually.

"OH MY STARS! SHE'S TAKING CALLS NOW!" The announcer shouted, making him turn the volume down. A faint beeping sound could be heard in the background. "SOMEONE GET HER ONLINE! WE COULD GET IT ON THE SITE!"

Gideon had never picked up his phone faster.

"GOODNIGHT VERSAILLE!" The pop sensation shouted to the massive crowd, getting a deafening cheer in response. As soon as she got off of the stage, bodyguards escorted her to her dressing room and waited until she changed to lead her to the awaiting limo. Cameras flashed from all around her, but no one tried to pass the bodyguard barrier. Questions were shouted left and right in French, but she simply smiled and waved goodbye to everyone. Getting into the car, the bubbly woman immediately sagged in the plush, leather seats.

"Ms. Star, the line is open." Mable eyed her chauffeur, Theodore. The phone located in between the driver and passenger seat was a bright purple that begged to be picked up. A quick breather was all she needed to keep going.

"Thanks Theo." The woman smiled at the back of the driver's head, "and don't you remember what I asked you to call me?"

"Yes Goddess of Destruction." the man replied, a smile heard in his voice. The young singer chuckled before answering the phone.

"This is Shooting Star! Which shining star am I speaking to?" All she got was a high pitched scream and some unintelligible babbling.

"WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"

"Awe! I love you too!" The brunette relied, having a bit more conversation before hanging up and answering another call. This went on for eight more calls until she picked up the tenth, and final, caller.

"This is Shooting Star! Which little twinkle am I speaking to?"

Silence.

"Hello?" the singer tried again, a slight worry showing in her tone. She pressed the phone hard to her ear and heard very faint but quick breathing. "Are you alright?"

"...I'm okay" A deep, raspy voice rumbled.

"Good thing I picked up the line because you sound like quite a catch!" Mabel laughed flirtatiously, "Who am I talking to?"

"Um..." He was silent again after that and some shuffling was heard. A movement caught the confused celebrity's attention and saw that Theodore was motioning her to wrap up the call.

"I understand if you're too shy, but sadly, our time is up. I am so sorry."

"..what?" He said faintly.

"Our time is up, little star, but it was nice talking to you!" Mabel said remorsefully. "Have a glamtastic night!" She hung up quietly and looked up at her driver with worried eyes. She had been repressing the oncoming feeling of dread that came with the fan's voice, but feeling the uneasy energy from her driver had brought it back to the surface.

They arrived to her apartment in a tense silence that she was determined to break. "Thanks for the drive my loyal, royal subject." She sang, sending positive and light energy towards him. She smiled at the carefree laugh he gave.

"Anything for the Goddess." The singer entered the hotel humming, easily maneuvering her way to the elevator. A deluxe suite on the top floor was reserved just for the celebrity, and it was only in the confines of this exuberant area that she let her exhaustion show.

Her clothes dulled a more intense glow that emitted from Mabel's skin, her magic flowing freely now. She knew that those on other floors would start to feel tired and slightly uneasy due to her, but it had been a while since she had truly relaxed. This wasn't even a quarter of her power either. Her hair was let out of its tight bun and swayed in the magical current down to her kneecaps. Finally, her eyes shined in a plethora of vibrant colors before she settled on a light purple.

The magical creature looked around the space. The crème colored walls with pure white carpet was decorated with mahogany furniture and a flat screen attached to the television. The kitchen was separated from the living room by a swing door and a hallway opposite the kitchen led to an equally luscious bedroom and bathroom. She walked to the bedroom and sat on the bed, relaxing in the shadows. Her rainbow orbs took in the midnight sky through the crème curtains of her panoramic window, showing her the serene night life of the Italian city.

The moon shone brightly, and she smiled in response. For a few minutes, the singer basked in the silent night when such serenity was tainted by her manager's ringtone.

With a tired sigh, she answered. "Hello?"

"What was that?" A stern voice demanded and the brunette nearly winced. His voice was always so cold it made her powers chill her from within.

"What was what? I'm a very busy girl."

"Drop the act, I'm not one of your love-struck fans." His voice remained cold and Mabel pouted. "You should have called me right after that call. We've gone over this."

Mabel wanted to roll her eyes at her manager- he was almost as much of a worry wart as her twin- but, just this once, he had a point. Not like she'd tell him.

"I can take care of myself, Ivan."

"We tracked the number-" Mabel gave a noise of frustration.

"Ivan-"

"-and the address was identical to the letters you've been receiving." He finished, his tone never wavering from business.

Right. The letters.

All 126.

She knew what this was and what this person was, but no one could have prepared her for this. When she auditioned for the first time, Mabel had expected her fame. She expected and wanted the fans and the screaming. They told her to anticipate the late nights and the long months away from home. They also warned her of stalkers, but she didn't know that their aura would tax her in such a way and from such a long distance.

"We're sending you to a safe zone."

The declaration stopped her thoughts. "NO!" She exclaimed, not caring for her volume or the late hour. Quickly, she calmed herself in order to prevent the other occupants from feeling her panic. Sometimes it sucked to be a natural empath.

"Mabel, this is now recognized as stalking, and thus a danger to your safety."

"We can't cancel the rest of the tour, Ivan! Millions of people have spent so much to see my concert. I've read the comments and the letters. Some of them sold prized possessions just to see me! "She pleaded. The young creature could almost taste the desperation and hope in their envelopes and touch the love in the ink. There was no way she was letting all of that go. It would nearly kill her, she was sure of it. "Please, Ivan!"

There was a silence on the other end, but she didn't need her magic to feel his indecision.

"Once we finish this tour, I'll go wherever you deem safe enough for me. I can tell my fans that I'm taking a break or that I'm working on my next album. Please!" She pleaded.

There was another beat of silence, and Mabel's heart swelled with joy a second before a long, exhausted sigh came from over the line.

"I swear, you're going to be the death of me one day."

"I love you too Ivan the Glorious!" Happily, she added," I knew you weren't as terrible as everyone claims!"

"Mabel, that annoying nickname is meant to be a historical refre-"

"Oh wow look at the time its soo late!" The pop star said in a rush, cutting off the beginning of what she knew would be an hour long discussion on the history behind said nickname. As though she didn't already know. "It was a long night and you're always nagging me about getting sleep, so goodnight Ivan".

"Goodnight, Mabel." He said with one last sigh before ending the call. Mabel laid down on her bed and shut her eyes, hoping to be met with nice dreams from the pompous clientele.

With blessed sleep, the last remnants of her withheld fear faded away.


End file.
